Unforgettable, Linda Barrett [books to read to be successful TXT] 📗
- Author: Linda Barrett
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She glanced around the table, finding sympathy laced with curiosity in her friends’ expressions. Okay. She could handle that. Her message, however, was meant for Doug. She returned her gaze to him.
“In my world,” she began, “people leave. First my parents—and you have no idea what that was like—and then you, and I wasn’t sure about Mike and Lisa staying together either. I know you have to accept what’s out of your control, like a car accident on an icy road. But I’m not going to volunteer for more heartache and grief. My life is great as it is. Your being in Boston is totally immaterial to me.”
“Then it seems,” he said softly, “that I have a lot of work to do.”
The waitress approached, and conversation turned to food and drink. “Just a cup of chicken soup,” said Jen. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Maybe him tagging along wasn’t a good idea,” said Evan, nodding toward Doug. “You’ve managed to upset Jen, who’s a very cool woman. So, let’s get the whole picture. Why else are you here? What kind of projects?”
Jen looked at her co-worker. Who would have thought that this quiet guy would speak up now? Still waters….?
Doug shifted in his seat. His gaze swept both sides of the booth. “I’m a writer. I worked hard and got lucky, too. I have a new play, and its debut will be here with the Commonwealth Regional Theater company. And that’s as far as I’m thinking.”
Jen heard nothing after Commonwealth. Her choir, The All-City Chorus, rehearsed at that theater twice a week, and she’d be there in the morning. “‘Of all the gin joints…’” she murmured.
She’d never doubted his talent, and she’d been right. His very first play had been staged in college. A rare honor. He’d been thrilled, of course, but shy about it. He used to say that writers were too insecure to brag. And now, he’d been modest in front of her friends. It seemed he’d been totally focused on his craft while living in New York.
“Congratulations,” she offered. “Sounds like you’ll be busy with rehearsals and whatever—for a little while, and after a successful run here, poof! Back to Broadway. Works well for me.”
“Writing your own script, Jen?” Doug’s eyes gleamed. “Sorry to disappoint. I didn’t renew the lease on my New York apartment because….I’m also this year’s playwright-in-residence at our alma mater. If The Sanctuary goes to Broadway, I’ll commute.”
She needed air.
“I’m back, Jen. And tomorrow I’m hunting for new digs. I can’t stay with my sister indefinitely. Any suggestions?” His glance traveled from Jen to the others, and she sighed in relief at the change of topic. An objective, neutral topic. Boston sported a dozen or more neighborhoods attractive to singles.
“It really depends on your budget,” said Liz. “In this town, a one-bedroom can run anywhere from sixteen hundred to double that a month.”
“I’d like to be close to the theater, if possible.”
“Then that would be downtown,” said Evan slowly. “A great choice.”
Could the night get any worse? First the theater, now Jen’s neighborhood—a walking neighborhood where she could run into him at any time. “I doubt he can afford it.”
In unison, all eyes turned toward first toward her, then toward Doug.
“She’s got a point, man,” said Even. “But there are other great locations.”
“There sure are,” said Jen calmly now. “Many good areas. You don’t need to be downtown.”
Doug’s eyes narrowed. “Any particular reason, Henny-Penny?”
Liz coughed and hid her mouth. Matt looked away. Not a shred of acting material in them.
“No reason at all.” Jen waved her arm in dismissal. “Search the whole city. Means nothing to me if you go into debt.” Deflection might work.
“For crying out loud, I might have known,” said Doug with a sigh. “The starving playwright thing…. Well, I’m not quite there, and you don’t have to worry I’ll be asking for a loan. I do know how to budget.” He chuckled and looked around the table, making eye contact with each person for a moment. “Although I seem to be in a minority among the financial whizzes here.”
Everyone laughed. “Financial whizzes believe in budgets, too,” said Liz.
“Who knows?” Doug said. “One day soon, I might be asking for advice.”
And that’s when Jen knew that Doug had turned her friends into his friends, too.
Jen signed her bill and got ready to leave. Hanging around for an evening with Doug was not going to happen. And she did have a rehearsal in the morning—not that an early start time had ever impeded her evening activities in the past.
“Hang on a sec. Look, Jen, karaoke’s about to start. Go on. Sing. Remember way back one Christmas in Woodhaven…?”
Oh, God. Don’t go there…don’t go back to a time when happy endings beckoned. When she used to look as eager and hopeful as Doug did right now!
Would it be easier to sing something and put an end to all this nonsense? As a kaleidoscope of titles flashed through her mind, she smiled her herself. Perfect. She’d send him a musical message.
“If you’re sure you want a song from me, okay. But don’t complain afterwards.” Escaping the booth, she quickly made her way to the emcee. He worked the gig every weekend and knew her.
“Jennifer Delaney! Lucky us,” he greeted her, handing her the mic and the song list. “What’s on for tonight?”
She scanned the list. “Right there,” she said, pointing at Gloria Gaynor’s name. “Let’s get the place hopping.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Okay with me, sweetheart. Nail it.” He turned toward the diners. “To start the evening off, we have one of Boston’s own, one of our regulars — and I think she’s ready to rock the house!” With a flourish, he handed the mic to her. She grasped it as though she were in a concert arena, twirled and waved at the audience.
“Ready?” Their noise assured her. She nodded at the emcee. “Let’s go.”
The piano chords echoed, her voice accompanied them. I Will Survive…. And she took the crowd through the heroine’s story. How the boyfriend tried to hurt her by leaving. And then the outrage of him showing up again, uninvited. But, I Will Survive.
It was only when she reached the end that her personal lightbulb blazed, illuminating the truth she’d hidden so well. She, too, still had a lot of love to give and to share. It flowed through her with promise and warmth. Doug Collins could no longer block the feelings she’d held frozen in place, preventing her from reaching for a full life. Only she had that power. Perhaps he’d actually done her a favor by showing up. He didn’t own her heart, not anymore.
She held the mic while the crowd applauded and whistled. She didn’t hear them. “What a feeling,” she whispered. “I’m finally free to be…me.”
##
“That was quite a performance,” said Doug, quietly. “Message received, but I’ll walk you home anyway. It’s a long trek to Beacon Hill.”
Beacon Hill? She’d moved out of her sister’s home three years ago. Her decision. A big decision. But she had grown up since the tragedy, no longer that frightened sixteen-year-old girl caught in a whirlwind of anger, fear, and…grief. A girl who had searched for hope and finally the courage to spread her wings—a little bit.
She stared at Doug, who had started to leave the table, glad he was clueless. “No, thanks. I’m quite capable of making my own way.”
“I know you’re capable…”
“Good luck with your apartment hunting.” She waved him back, headed toward the exit, then called out over her shoulder, “Why don’t you try Cambridge or the Seaport?”
Her cell rang as soon as she hit the street.
“Mike! Hi—"
“Lisa’s water broke,” he began without preamble. “The baby’s coming earlier than expected, and Emily’s at a rehearsal. Can you get here right away to stay with Bobby?” His voice was tight, his words rushed. Her brother-in-law definitely did not sound like Mike Brennen, confident quarterback of the Boston Riders, a position he’d held for ten years. He sounded like a worried husband.
“Why don’t you all go straight to the hospital,” Jen said, “and I’ll meet you there. Saves time. Seems like the baby can’t wait to make an appearance.”
“Great idea. See you in a few.”
Walking was not an option now. Uber. She needed Uber. She searched her phone apps, made the call and paced outside the restaurant.
Five minutes could be an eternity. She barely noticed the noise when customers entered or left the place. She barely heard the karaoke music. She did recognize a familiar male voice, however, call her name.
“Jen…what are you still doing here? I thought…
“Change of plans, and look…here’s my ride.” She charged inside the car without waiting for driver to open her door.
“Brigham and Women’s—you know where that is, right? And step on it!” She slammed the door shut and looked outside to see a puzzled Doug gazing after the cab.
##
Two hours later, after returning with little Bobby to her sister’s house, she cuddled with her nephew, reading the three-year-old just one more story while his eyelids drifted closed. She inhaled the clean, little-boy aroma of baby shampoo and snuggled in for a goodnight kiss.
“Sweet baby,” she whispered. “Your Auntie Jen loves you very much.”
She heard a contented sigh, then another, and tiptoed from the room, leaving the door open. Taking one more glance, she chuckled at the sight of his nerf football under one arm and his favorite worn-out blankie under the other. At the end of the hall, she descended to the main floor of the brick Tudor, the home of her teenage and college days, the roomy suite on the top floor perfect for the adolescent girl she had been.
According to Mike, the Beacon Street house would always be home to Lisa’s siblings. In time, he’d become the legal guardian along with Lisa, to Jen’s younger sister and brothers. And Jen had been Lisa’s right-hand gal from the beginning. Her twin brothers were still in college with two years to go, and Emily, sweet, talented Emily, had just turned eighteen and had taken over Jen’s suite.
She heard the sound of a key in the front door and glanced at her watch just as the door opened.
“Jenny! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.” Emily rushed forward, violin case in hand, and hugged her sister, then looked around. “Where is everyone?”
“Bobby’s sleeping upstairs, maybe dreaming about his new baby sister. Come into the kitchen.”
But Em’s complexion had paled. “It’s too soon. Isn’t it?”
“Just a little. Mike said everything’s fine. The baby is just…just petite.” Jen pressed her lips together. “She’s in an incubator, but all her systems are working. Breathing on her own. No tubes.”
“Oh, that’s good. Right?”
“Yeah, that’s very good. She just needs time to grow. And I need you to stay home tomorrow morning with Bobby-boy. Mike’ll be at the hospital with Lisa, and I have a mandatory rehearsal. The concert’s in two weeks.”
It seemed like a year before Emily responded. “I can change my practice time tomorrow.” The teen paused, looked at Lisa with shiny eyes and quivering lips. “Why do bad things always happen in this family? Why is everything so hard? Even Lisa’s little baby has…has…to struggle.”
Stepping close to her sister, Jen wrapped her arms around her. “Every family has bad stuff, Em. But we Delaneys are tough. The baby, too. They’re naming her Brianna. Do you know what that name means?”
Emily shook her head.
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